


Anger

by ateulysses



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Heavy Angst, Oma Kokichi Needs a Hug, Out of Character Oma Kokichi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:01:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25132069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ateulysses/pseuds/ateulysses
Summary: Another vent I wrote like,,, just now..... This ISNT saiouma
Kudos: 30





	Anger

**Author's Note:**

> I didnt spell check this one either seriously dont come for me im just write sad all the time

Kokichi was having an episode. Anger did not mix well with him. His body couldnt handle that feeling. It bottled it up and either tossed it out at the first opportunity or kept it in until it couldn’t be ignored. Contrary to popular belief, Kokichi didn’t get mad. He didn’t have time for it. The daily task of simply being someone people could call a leader rarely left time in-between to be.... anything really. In his downtime, he allowed himself to reflect on problems that could not be solved. Ridiculing his behavior, as he saw it childish. Do not spend time on things that weren’t made to work. Do not spend time on things that continue to be faulty. Do not spend time on the eyes that insult you with every shared glance. Do not spend time on material things. Do not spend time on the voice lacking in affection. Do not spend time on him. But.... time spent hurting exists. Especially if you’re the one doing the hurting. 

Shuichi couldn’t have known. Albeit, a really stupid excuse, it had been one nonetheless. To be frank, Kokichi hadn’t been all that open. He rarely spoke up for himself, he never said no, he hadn’t made it clear that he had been felt uncomfortable and unloved. He hadn’t expressed his discomfort with the growing unfamiliarity he had begun to produce between their peers. And for good reason, which had been the worst part. Kokichi was well within his own reason to burn bridges, to seclude himself away. To only be spectated as he helplessly began to spiral downward into an obnoxious pit of anger and disappointment that he would not be able to pull himself out of on his own. Though, the others knew. And they watched. They watched him descend further and further down into that hole until the darkness shrouded his vision. Until they could no longer see him. Until he could no longer be helped out, even if he had reached for any sort of support. At that point, it would be useless. 

He couldn’t eat. He couldn’t sleep. He wouldn’t talk. Sometimes he’d liked to frighten himself by convincing the image in his mirror that his voice no longer worked. Of course, all it did was mock him. It stood there, reminding Kokichi of what he was becoming. He was angry. And shame on his mirror for making him aware of the reality he worked so hard to erase. He could yell, he could cry, he could scream, he could shatter the mocking image in the mirror. But it wouldn’t change the fact that he was angry. So extremely angry. And his body shook with confusion, before retreating from his room altogether. Not that he would particularly need it, or the mirror anymore anyway. With it being in pieces. 

Everything he owned would then be reduced to shambles and fragments of what they once made up. A destruction that nobody had an overall explanation for, other than the tiny leader simply having an attitude. His lab took the destruction with a full heart. This place was meant to give him what he needed. And what he absolutely needed at the moment was to destroy. To cause panic to both himself and those who would check up on him. Though he could never wrap his head around why people would ever check on him. He would spend days upon days without food, without sleep, frustratingly, without human contact, ripping things from the walls only to crush them under his boots. Satisfaction never came. Only continuous pangs to his heart that sympathized with the items he abused. 

Satisfaction didn’t come until the detective thought it good to bring their peers to ‘intervene’ on his parade of entropy. Which MIGHT have been a good idea, if they hadn’t already lost their opportunity to reach an understanding long before he had even begun to seclude himself from those around him. They threw around words of kindness and support, all the while he stood, confused and angry. All he could be was angry. There hadn’t been room for anything else. Not for the last few months. He knew the feeling very well now, almost romanticized it. It became a comfort, one that never gave him what he wanted. And he liked the security in finally knowing how things would turn out. They would turn out the way he wanted them to. Because anger was pushy. Anger was violent. And anger got what it wanted when it wanted it.  
He loved the feeling. He loved to hate things. He loved to hate people. And he hated when Shuichi felt the need to worm his way into the only crevice that anger hadnt yet filled up in this moment of emotional uncertainty. 

“You know, Kokichi, we all care about you, we just want you to get help. You’re going to end up alone if you continue to let it get the best of you, and we don’t want to see that.” 

We all care about you.  
It was a sentiment often taken at face value. Nobody cared about anyone. Not unless they felt guilty enough to care. 

We want you to get help.  
This is helping. This is helping better than anything has ever helped. This is what his body was created for. The destruction of the Earth beneath his feet. 

Youre going to end up alone if you continue to let it get the best of you.  
It is.  
It is the best of him. 

And the best of him it got, and the best of him Shuichi would receive. Satisfaction. A chance for satisfaction presented itself and Kokichi abused the opportunity. And there he sat on Shuichi’s chest as he connected his fist to flesh. Over and over and over and over and over again until he couldn’t remember why he was angry. It had been like that for a while. He couldn’t remember why he was angry. All he knew was that it was happening, and he let it. He let himself break away from people who had probably been willing to help. He let himself ruin things. The new revelation exerted itself in the force Kokichi used to unceasingly abuse the boy under him. And maybe it felt good. Maybe it felt good because this is what his hands were made for. Or maybe it felt good because it gave him something other than anger to be familiar with. Much like what his hands were made for. Hurting. Because it hurt not being listened to. It hurt being told you need to stop. It hurt having your coping mechanism be invalidated by those you falsely trusted. It hurt knowing that they were right. It hurt to starve. It hurt to stay awake. It hurt the most when he realized that Shuichi had not fought back. It hurt knowing that he was letting Kokichi wreck his face. And it hurt when he stopped momentarily to catch his breath. It hurt when he sobbed in the middle of such an easy task. And it hurt when Shuichi raised himself from the ground to embrace Kokichi after just willingly having his face beaten in. 

But at least it didn’t hurt as much as being angry.


End file.
